


such a beautiful myth

by wordlocker



Series: every vixx pairing [11]
Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordlocker/pseuds/wordlocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>taekwoon is broken and losing faith, wonshik is struggling to fix the pieces back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	such a beautiful myth

The call came while Wonshik was in a heated meeting about contract renewal and unreasonable demands with the most aggravating artist he’d ever regretted taking on. He glanced at the screen, saw that it was an unknown number, and ignored the incessant hum on the conference desk. Not five minutes later, his assistant barged in, her eyes wide and face wracked with panic.

 

“What?” Wonshik had yelled. He was never a mean boss, but even the paled face of the lovely woman wasn’t enough to alleviate his anger.

 

“There was a call from the hospital,” she said thickly. “It’s your husband, he’s—”

 

Wonshik didn’t really listen to what she was saying, his mind already racing with worst case scenarios and he was rambling about having to leave for the hospital, not even caring how he was practically throwing his charismatic façade out the window. His poor driver was yelled at no less than ten times the whole way, and Wonshik didn’t even wait for the car to stop fully before he was flying out the door, running ahead without even bothering to excuse himself as he bumped into people. He knew they would recognize him, but nothing mattered more than getting to his husband. 

 

The nurse at the station looked appropriately sympathetic as she told him what number room Taekwoon was in. Wonshik wondered if it was because of what happened – nothing really, he’d hoped, just Taekwoon forgetting to have a meal again, he’d prayed – or the fact that Wonshik was panting and sweating, face pinched with worry and exertion. Wonshik found the room at the very end of the wing, the closed door looming over him like a hell gate. 

 

Taekwoon was curled up on the bed, facing the wall. For all of his height, he looked so small under the blanket. Wonshik’s heart leaped into his throat. He advanced quietly into the room, but he sensed that Taekwoon had heard him anyway, his shoulders tensing. Wonshik reached out and touched him, and he started sobbing. The sound of it tore at Wonshik’s insides, and before he’d spoken, Wonshik somehow knew the worst had happened.

 

“Taekwoon,” he whispered, leaning in so he could see his husband’s face.

 

Taekwoon curled further into himself, away from Wonshik’s eyes, and all he managed to see were tear-stained cheek and pursed lips. “She’s – she’s gone,” Taekwoon sobs, his normally soft voice raw and broken. “The baby – our baby’s – I lost her.”

 

“Oh, Taekwoon,” Wonshik whimpered, crowding in close in an attempt to embrace him, to kiss him so he would be calm again. Taekwoon wouldn’t let him, hands clutching at his devastatingly flat stomach, flinching away from Wonshik like it stung to be near him.

 

It has been four months, and Wonshik remembers the day as clear as yesterday. Even if he wants to forget, Taekwoon’s cold silence and vacant expressions wouldn’t allow him to.

 

.

 

“Hyung, I’m going to LA for about five days,” Wonshik says as he climbs into bed next to a reading Taekwoon. “Do you want to come with me? We can visit your folks.”

 

Taekwoon doesn’t look away from the folder he’s holding, shaking his head. “Busy,” he says. “Upcoming acquisition and all.”

 

“Are you – are you doing alright?” Wonshik asks gently, trying to meet Taekwoon’s eyes.

 

“I’m fine,” Taekwoon mutters, jaw squaring. “Just tired.”

 

“Maybe,” Wonshik implores, treading carefully. “Maybe after LA and your takeover, we can go away for a while? It’s been so long since we’ve been to Jeju.”

 

Taekwoon’s really fond of their vacation home on the island. It’s small and cozy, but most importantly private. For the first time in months, he doesn’t outright brush off Wonshik’s suggestion. “We’ll see.”

 

Wonshik’s hand trembles when he reaches out to touch Taekwoon’s forearm. “Don’t stay up too late, hyung. You’ve been working too hard.”

 

Taekwoon doesn’t move away, but he keeps his gaze on the paper instead of looking at Wonshik. Wonshik never sees his eyes these days, and the thought of it makes him feel so bereft. “Go to sleep, Wonshik.”

 

Wonshik does as he’s told, body turned towards Taekwoon, just in case. The touch he’s been waiting for never comes, and he sleeps fitfully, something he’s gotten used to after four months.

 

.

 

Wonshik’s parents drop by for a visit a day before they leave for Jeju. Wonshik shamelessly basks in the moment, because although Taekwoon doesn’t really touch him in front of his parents, he tries to smile and talks a lot more than when they’re alone. It’s something they wordlessly agree to do – keep up the pretenses of a happy marriage, not only with their folks, but also the public.

 

Theirs had been a phenomenally publicized wedding – the media conglomerate heir and the founder of the most successful entertainment company in the country. It was arranged, as was custom for people of their standing, but they’d liked each other enough to be happy with it. Taekwoon was clearly not as taciturn as he’d first seemed, and as they grew closer Wonshik had discovered that his husband was actually witty and sweet, on top of being the smartest and most loving person he knew.

 

They ended up adoring each other, Wonshik thought, and when they’d found out about Taekwoon’s pregnancy, the affection grew much stronger. Until that wretched day.

 

“So what?” Wonshik’s dad asks over lunch. “Is this like a second honeymoon of some sort?”

 

Wonshik almost chokes on his rice, and his mother reaches out to pat his back with a light laughter. A short glance to his husband tells him that Taekwoon isn’t as affected, silently picking at his meal even as he flushes a little bit. His parents drop the topic after a few more jokes, and Wonshik gratefully starts talking about his partnership with the studio in LA.

 

“Does this mean you’re going to be away a lot?” his mother wonders, brows creasing.

 

Wonshik nods guiltily. “Just for a few months, though, until things are more stable. I’m sending Sanghyuk there to take care of things more permanently.”

 

“That’s nice and all, dear,” his mother continues, still frowning. “But what about Taekwoon? He’s going to be so lonely here all by himself. If only the baby—”

 

“ _Mother_ ,” Wonshik admonishes softly, darting a glance at Taekwoon. He’s stopped touching his food, eyes cast down.

 

His mother makes a pitiful noise. “I’m sorry, Wonshik. It’s just that – we were so excited, and—”

 

Wonshik jerks, about to say _so were we!_ when Taekwoon stands up rigidly, his face closed off. “I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”

 

The three of them watch silently as Taekwoon leaves, Wonshik’s heart breaking just a little bit more.

 

.

 

Taekwoon doesn’t talk to him at all that night, and Wonshik’s attempt at apologizing for his mom’s words is only met with a wordless nod. Taekwoon lies closely to him as they sleep, though – not exactly touching, and Wonshik yearns to reach out and touch the smooth, porcelain skin so much his fingers singe with it. Taekwoon’s body exudes warmth, and Wonshik closes his eyes just imagining what it’ll feel like to have it underneath him again.

 

Taekwoon finally speaks as he wakes Wonshik up in the morning so they won’t be late for the airport. He’s already showered and dressed, and Wonshik rushes to do the same, even though he’s sorely tempted to take his time just to see Taekwoon fidget. He watches fondly, instead, as Taekwoon gets more and more excited he’s almost vibrating.

 

The weather in Jeju is balmy, just the way they like it. Taekwoon tips his head up to the sky, sunglasses perched on his nose, and seems to sniff the air with a small smile on his face. He catches Wonshik staring at him and looks away, pretending to search for a cab. They pile into the car hurriedly, both eager now, and the driver makes small talk with them, recognizing them from the news and TV. 

 

They hug the housekeeper as she leaves them to their selves, and Taekwoon’s the first to suggest they go down to the beach for a stroll. Wonshik changes into his board shorts and tank top, rolling his eyes when Taekwoon hands him the sunscreen bottle with a firm look. They practically skip to the private beach right behind the house, Wonshik shouting like a lunatic as Taekwoon shakes his head at him.

 

The walk on the beach is quiet, but comfortable. Taekwoon even starts conversations by pointing out things they see in the sand and out in the water, and Wonshik can’t stop smiling he knows he looks like an idiot. As they’re about to turn around and walk back, Wonshik spots a volleyball abandoned near a rock and goes over to pick it.

 

“Fancy a game?” Wonshik asks, cocking an eyebrow. Taekwoon looks like he’s about to refuse, so Wonshik tries to sweeten the deal, knowing how he really likes to win. “Let’s make a bet.”

 

“On what?” Taekwoon says dubiously. Wonshik almost snickers at how easy it is.

 

“First person to get ten points, the other person has to do whatever he wants,” Wonshik grins.

 

It takes Taekwoon all of two seconds to consider it. “Okay,” he agrees.

 

Wonshik lets out a cackle and Taekwoon gives him an exasperated look before snatching the ball from his hand. “Fine,” Wonshik taunts. “You can go first, _noodle arms_.”

 

Taekwoon glares at him grimly and Wonshik feels the displaced air next to his head as the ball whizzes past him dangerously close. “That’s one,” Taekwoon says smugly, that airy quality of his voice somehow making him sound more agitating. 

 

Wonshik grits his teeth and lines the ball up for a serve, more determined than ever.

 

The game ends with a final spike from Wonshik, the ball missing Taekwoon’s hands by a few inches to sink into the sand next to his foot. There’s a ripple of silence before Wonshik’s jumping and screaming victory at the top of his lungs, laughing at the miserable look on Taekwoon’s face as he kicks the ball away sulkily. 

 

“It’s only because you’re younger than me,” he mutters as an excuse.

 

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Wonshik grins unrepentantly at him. “I want my wish granted now.”

 

Taekwoon grunts, stopping in his tracks on the beach, clearly heading for home in defeat. “What do you want?”

 

Wonshik says it before he can really think, as if his body has decided for his mind. “Kiss me.”

 

Taekwoon looks surprised, anxious, but not appalled. He breathes out shakily and in the short span, Wonshik’s walked up to him, chin tilted in invitation. His heart stutters when Taekwoon closes the distance – _finally_ , lips damp and soft over his. He can feel that Taekwoon means it to be light and chaste, but Wonshik surges into it anyway, coaxing his way into Taekwoon’s mouth. Taekwoon tastes like the coffee candy he’s been sucking on since their flight, cloyingly sweet and familiar. Someone – Taekwoon, he thinks – moans brokenly, and Wonshik cups the side of Taekwoon’s neck, kissing him harder. His fingers are curled in the thin fabric of Taekwoon’s shirt and he swears he can feel Taekwoon’s heartbeat beating like a drum, not unlike the first time they end up this way – newlywed and tickled by attraction for each other.

 

And then it’s over, Taekwoon shoving him off with enough force that Wonshik staggers back, chest heaving with leftover exhilaration. “No, Wonshik,” he says, almost too soft to carry. “ _Please_ , don’t.”

 

Wonshik’s throat constricts painfully, and when he dips his head his tears drop to the sand. Taekwoon doesn’t say anything as he walks back up to the house, and Wonshik finally looks up to the waning moon, harsh wind nipping at his face, and howls out in frustration.

 

.

 

Wonshik corners Taekwoon on the bedroom balcony after dinner. He’s nursing a cup of coffee and Wonshik realizes that it’s the first time he’s seen his husband with one since he first got pregnant. The thought rattles him a little, about how much they’ve lost – time and affection, and how long this is going to last.

 

“We’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later, Taekwoon,” Wonshik says levelly. His breath is coming out in short bursts, and he’s on the verge of breaking down, so he grips at the thick wooden handrail until his knuckles are almost as white as the paint. “Silence isn’t going to work.”

 

When Taekwoon does speak, it’s with steel in his voice, the ruthless businessman in him surfacing. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

“What happened to us?” Wonshik asks, turning to face him. Taekwoon’s not really looking at him, but the set in his jaw tells him that it hits home. “Look, you’re probably right in blaming me. I fucked up, okay? I wasn’t being attentive enough, and I missed your check-ups because of work, I wasn’t paying enough attention or cared for you—”

 

“I don’t blame you,” Taekwoon interrupts, almost desperate. “It wasn’t – wasn’t your fault.”

 

Wonshik frowns, beginning to feel the urgency himself. “Then what? It’s been _months_ and you won’t talk to me. You were wrong, you know? You didn’t lose her, we both did. I was grieving, too. We need each other to be strong, to be whole again. Why won’t you—“

 

“Because it was me,” Taekwoon chokes, arms wrapping around his own trembling body. “I did it. I _lost_ her. I was supposed to be careful, and I wasn’t, I can tell – and every time I look at you it just reminds me again how I lost our child. It hurts, Wonshik. I loved her so much already, and I know you did, too. It was my fault.”

 

“Taekwoon,” Wonshik says, reaching out to hold his face gently. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay. We just need to pick these pieces up and help each other heal. We can do it together.”

 

For a second Taekwoon seems calmer, and something akin to hope unfurls in Wonshik’s chest. Then he pulls away, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he mumbles, avoiding Wonshik’s eyes. “It hurts too much, Wonshik. I can’t.”

 

A gust of wind sends Taekwoon away leaving Wonshik alone on the deck, his hands hovering in mid-air where he’d been holding his husband. Taekwoon’s words sound so final that it wrenches a sob out of Wonshik, and his knees hit the floor before he even knows it.

 

.

 

The afternoon sunlight is filtering through the purple curtain, casting a soft glow across the whole room. Where there were pink and yellow there’s now only white, plain sheets over all the furniture – the wardrobe, the bookcase, the rocking chair, the crib. The fluffy white carpet beneath Wonshik’s feet feels cold, and Wonshik watches through watery eyes as his fingers uncurl to touch a stuffed rabbit, the one Taekwoon picked out once upon a time.

 

He brushes the tears away with the back of his hand, breathing in the scent of hope and dreams, then walks out of the room. The pink door closes with a soft click, but in the empty hallway it sounds thunderous, and Wonshik rests his forehead against the cool wood for a while.

 

Taekwoon’s working late again tonight, and Wonshik considers the benefit of going back to the studio to work on some unfinished melodies just to avoid the empty house. He’s just about to walk into the bathroom for a quick hot shower when he sees the large envelope lying against his pillow. It wasn’t there this morning when he left for work, and as he takes it in one hand, his heart gives out a dull thud like an ominous signal. 

 

The papers shake in his hands as he reads the top part. The letters swim across his eyes and Wonshik’s whole body crumples on itself, flopping onto the bed lifelessly. 

 

Divorce papers, and right at the bottom, Taekwoon’s signature is letting him know that it’s over.

 

.

 

Wonshik thanks the security guy that lets him through the lift lobby with the friendliest smile he manages to muster. The only reason he’s being let in, after all, is because the guy recognizes him. He still has an image to uphold.

 

The only lights that are still on are the ones in the vast hallway leading to Taekwoon’s office. Wonshik trudges along the plush carpet, seething with anger and disappointment, even as his chest tightens with grief. 

 

Taekwoon startles with a jolt when Wonshik barges into the room, standing stiffly by his large executive desk holding a thin folder. He looks so good, Wonshik’s traitorous body realizes. He’s gotten rid of his jacket and tie, dressed only in perfectly pressed shirt and waistcoat, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Tailored pants hug his thighs like second skin, and Wonshik burns from the inside out just thinking of peeling them off those long legs.

 

The distraction hasn’t quelled his anger, though, and he steps up close, challenging Taekwoon with a stare. “What did you think you were doing with those papers, Taekwoon?”

 

Taekwoon doesn’t flinch, of course he doesn’t. Wonshik’s seen him face off with narrow-minded old men with enough power to turn the whole industry against him at a _tea party_. “I told you I can’t do it anymore, Wonshik.”

 

The resignation in his voice punches the air out of Wonshik’s lungs. “That’s it? You don’t even think, even just for a second, that this – _us_ – is worth salvaging?”

 

Taekwoon averts his eyes in pretense of tucking the folder away, his tone detached and cold. “I’ll take care of the media. I’ll explain about the – the divorce. You don’t need to worry about the backlash.”

 

“What the _fuck_ , hyung!” Wonshik snaps. “I don’t care about the media. I don’t want us to get a divorce. I don’t understand why you do. Do you honestly hate me that much?”

 

There are tears in Taekwoon’s eyes now, unshed and on the verge of falling. “I don’t hate you,” he says hoarsely, gripping the side of his desk. “Far from it – I – I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I’ll screw up again.”

 

“You didn’t screw up,” Wonshik says, softening, trying desperately to soothe Taekwoon. “You won’t screw up again.”

 

“How can you know that?” Taekwoon chokes out, his lower lip quaking from holding back his tears. “I can’t go on like this, dreading another loss. I can’t live knowing that you’ll – you’ll _resent_ me, Wonshik. If you haven’t already.”

 

“Hey,” Wonshik darts forward, cupping the sides of Taekwoon’s face. Taekwoon shakes, eyes clenched tight. “Hyung, look at me, please.”

 

Taekwoon’s eyes flutter open and Wonshik takes a second to stare into them, putting as much intent in his next words as he can.

 

“I love you,” he says, and Taekwoon’s breath catches. “I love you very much. I want us to be together. And if – _if_ something bad happens again, I will still love you. No matter what happens, I will always love you, hyung.”

 

His confession lingers in the air, thick between them. Wonshik almost breaks from despair when Taekwoon starts to move. Taekwoon kisses him as a reply, large hand cupping his jaw and soft lips moving against his. Wonshik’s heart pounds at how much he craves this – intimate and lovely and just for them. It gets heated up pretty fast – it’s just been far too long, Wonshik backing Taekwoon up until they hit the edge of the desk. Moving away just so he can breathe, Wonshik slides Taekwoon’s waistcoat off and yanks his shirt out of his waistband, reaching up to trip over the contours of his flat belly. Taekwoon makes a helpless noise and quivers against him, eyes half hooded now.

 

Wonshik leans in and catches his mouth again, parted like an invitation. “Are we alone?” he asks throatily, even as he starts unbuckling Taekwoon’s belt. 

 

Taekwoon nods, a minute, jerky movement. “Yes,” he rasps. “Yes. _Please_ , Wonshik.”

 

Wonshik refuses to delay any longer, stripping out of his own leather jacket and sweater, working on his jeans as he watches Taekwoon undress at a similar pace – frenzied and eager. Wonshik tugs his husband over to the bulky leather couch in the corner of the room, caging him in with more kisses and his larger bulk. Taekwoon’s legs part easily for him, beckoning, and Wonshik fits himself between them, breathing heavily through the lust.

 

“I’ve missed you,” he tells Taekwoon, gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips and back again.

 

“Me too,” Taekwoon admits, fingers somehow finding their way around Wonshik’s erect cock, curling loosely. “So much.”

 

Wonshik’s head drops to Taekwoon’s shoulder, exhaling shakily as he takes it in. Taekwoon dips down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, and Wonshik does the same to the spot right over his heart.

 

“Can I?” Wonshik mutters against his chest. Taekwoon gives him a smile and nods when Wonshik looks up.

 

Taekwoon suddenly blushes. “There’s lube,” he tells Wonshik shyly. “Bottom drawer of my desk.” Wonshik raises an eyebrow in curiosity and he looks away, biting on his lower lip. “I had to – we haven’t been—”

 

Wonshik groans at the imagery – Taekwoon hiding away in this grand office, top of the food chain, fucking himself open because Wonshik wasn’t there to do it. But it’s his turn now, so he leaps away from the couch in search of that lube, hurrying back with an unstoppable smile. Even without saying anything, Taekwoon’s visibly eager, hitching his legs up around Wonshik’s hips to draw him in with only enough room for Wonshik to prep him, the high points of his cheeks warm with color. Wonshik goes slow, almost teasing, if the high, needy noises that escape Taekwoon are any indication.

 

Taekwoon finally takes three of his fingers, cock unabashedly hard and curving against his belly, the tip pink and wet. Wonshik crooks the digits and Taekwoon clenches around him, surprised gasp echoing through the room. He kisses Taekwoon as he pulls out – his forehead, his cheek, the angle of his jaw, the center of his chest. His painfully hard dick twitches in his hand as he lines up, precome beading at the slit, and Wonshik rubs it off against Taekwoon’s perineum, watching it glisten. 

 

“Did you finger yourself while thinking about this, Taekwoon?” he asks huskily, although he already knows the answer. “About my dick?”

 

Taekwoon’s quiet, as he normally is and how Wonshik has always loved him. He simply nods, bottom lip caught between sharp teeth again. Wonshik takes it, because he knows about the sort of noises he’ll pull out of his husband later, and his belly flutters in anticipation for them.

 

“ _Wonshik_ ,” Taekwoon finally says, breathy and sweet, when Wonshik gets too engrossed in watching the way the tip of his dick catch against Taekwoon’s entrance.

 

Wonshik obliges, and the slow drag in almost undoes them both, bitten-off moans bouncing off the walls of the empty office. He breathes through gritted teeth, staying still as Taekwoon adjusts, eyes fluttering gently. Taekwoon reaches out to splay a large hand against his stomach, and Wonshik takes it as a sign to move, pulling out and driving back in fluidly, the heat and friction forcing a guttural sound out of him.

 

Taekwoon’s ever so encouraging, strong thighs bracketing Wonshik’s hips and heels digging into the dimples of his ass, moaning wantonly. Taekwoon’s noises and the heated way he’s staring at Wonshik is making him feel heady, hips pistoning harder and faster because of it. It’s frantic in a way not even their first time ever was, bodies and sweet spots familiar yet the wanting anew, laced with adoration newly professed. Wonshik shifts the angle on instinct, slamming in one smooth thrust, and Taekwoon chokes on his breath, spine curving delicately in unbridled pleasure.

 

“Wonshik,” Taekwoon keens, trashing underneath him. “I want – I want. _Please_.”

 

Wonshik keeps the position, taking one of Taekwoon’s legs and pressing it upward, spreading him open. Taekwoon mewls helplessly, hair plastered to his sweaty forehead making him look a lot younger than his years. Wonshik sucks softly at the soft white of his inner thigh, teeth grazing as his hips buck in an erratic rhythm. The moment he bites down Taekwoon seizes up, coming in thick ropes all over himself, fingers scrabbling for purchase – the cushion at his side, the supple fabric of the couch, Wonshik’s body. He quakes with the aftershocks, breaths spilling out in sobs and whimpers, and Wonshik slows down his thrusting to soothe him. 

 

“That was so good, hyung,” he whispers, bending over to kiss him briefly. Taekwoon tightens around him reflexively and Wonshik’s hips stutter. “ _Fuck_.”

 

Taekwoon’s perfectly pliant for him now, half-hard cock bobbing when Wonshik starts fucking him again. It’s an easier slide, though Taekwoon remains snug all over him, and Wonshik maintains the rushed pace in pursuit of release. It’s the infatuated look Taekwoon pins him with, coupled with the way he brushes his leg down Wonshik’s ass and the back of his thigh that does it in the end. Taekwoon’s almost aggravatingly unaware of his sensuality sometimes and Wonshik’s heart soars at the knowledge that he’ll be the only one who knows it from now on. His orgasm hits so hard he’s blinking away spots a minute along, groin pressed impossibly close to Taekwoon’s as he shudders through it.

 

Taekwoon blinks at him with dark feline eyes when he eases out, a small pleased noise escaping him when Wonshik’s come trickles out between his thighs. Wonshik dips to kiss him tenderly, belying the blazing emotion sparking through his core.

 

Taekwoon pulls away first, fingers brushing Wonshik’s hair away from his face. “I love you.”

 

Wonshik isn’t even aware how much he needs to hear it until it’s been said, and the relief and joy flood through him like a torrent, shaking him apart. It’s Taekwoon who catches him, putting him back together with gentle touches and even softer words, the silken quality of his voice lulling Wonshik into comfort.

 

.

 

This time around, Wonshik doesn’t miss the call. As soon as the caller identifies herself to be calling from the hospital, Wonshik’s pulse rate skyrockets and he has to brace his hands against his desk to steady himself. His heartbeat thunders in his ears the whole time she speaks, only catching bits of information, like his and Taekwoon’s names and where his husband is right now. The primal part of Wonshik wants to ask what happened, but fear takes over and he simply ends the call with an assurance that he will be right there.

 

He lets the driver takes him at the same insane speed that’s begging for a ticket, no longer shouting, but his gut clenches with worry and his lips are bitten raw already. He takes off as soon as the entrance looms clear, sprinting towards the same VIP wing as last time, the déjà vu settling like lead in his stomach. He doesn’t stop at the nurse’s station this time, rushing to the corner room and bursting in like a tornado.

 

Taekwoon might have been sleeping, but he’s blinking hazily at Wonshik right now, startling a little when Wonshik leaps at him and palms his face, panting.

 

“Oh, god. Are you okay, Taekwoon?” he asks in a wheeze. 

 

Taekwoon smiles wanly, patting the hand on his cheek soothingly. “I’m fine,” he says, moving a little into Wonshik’s touch. “It’s just exhaustion.”

 

“What happened?”

 

His husband looks like he’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. “I – passed out in my office.”

 

Wonshik inhales sharply. “I told you sleep and meals are more important than that stupid project of yours, hyung.”

 

Taekwoon shoots him a flat look. “This coming from a guy who went forty hours without sleep to finish composing a song.”

 

“Yeah, well. If I ever collapse in my studio, you have my permission to harass me about it,” Wonshik scowls, bumping their foreheads together. “I was so worried.”

 

“I’m okay,” Taekwoon hums softly into the miniscule space between them. “Wonshik,” he whispers. “They ran some tests earlier.”

 

Wonshik pulls away abruptly, searching for signs of distress on Taekwoon’s face. “What is it?” he asks shakily, heart lodged somewhere in his throat when he finds none.

 

Taekwoon ducks his head a little, but the curve of his smiling mouth is evident. “The doctor said I’m pregnant.”

 

Wonshik’s breathing speeds up, body responding before his mind can. “What?” he mutters in disbelief. It feels like a dream, and he’s praying silently over and over for it not to be.

 

Taekwoon tilts his face, his beautiful smile unchanging. “She thinks I’m about five weeks along.”

 

“Five weeks,” Wonshik echoes, trailing off as he realizes what it means. “That’s the night—”

 

Taekwoon looks away again, coy, blushing faintly. It was the night they had sex in his office, it has to be. There have been other times, afterwards, but the timing fits best. It’s as if the moment they decided to give their relationship a second chance, the universe decided to bestow it upon them, too.

 

Wonshik laughs, dizzy with elation and relief, and starts kissing Taekwoon all over his face. Taekwoon indulges him, face scrunched up adorably. 

 

“God, hyung,” Wonshik gushes, still cradling Taekwoon’s face. “I love you.”

 

Taekwoon smiles, sweet and pleased. “I love you, too.”

 

Wonshik kisses him again, just because, deep and tender, until they’re both breathless. “Okay,” he says, determined. “I’ll be ready to take care of you this time. I will take a longass paternity leave, like, as soon as you’re in your third trimester. Heck, I’m pretty sure Hongbin can take over for like a year. I can do that.”

 

Taekwoon laughs, amused and happy. “What about me, then? The actual pregnant person? I can’t just take off and leave the company for a whole year.”

 

“Don’t you have anyone who can run it temporarily while you’re gone?”

 

Taekwoon considers it for a moment, then shrugs. “I guess Jaehwan’s capable enough.”

 

“That _dweeb_ from your college?”

 

Taekwoon swats him on the chest for that. “That dweeb graduated first in our class,” Taekwoon points out. “And he’s my VP for a reason. Also, he was the one who found me at the office and brought me here.”

 

Wonshik makes a face. “I guess I should thank him, then?”

 

“He _did_ try to give me mouth-to-mouth before even checking if I was conscious, but yeah,” Taekwoon chuckles, tongue peeking out at the corner of his lips playfully.

 

“What?” Wonshik glowers.

 

Taekwoon clearly takes pleasure in riling him up. “He didn’t actually do it,” he assures.

 

“Good. Or else your VP would sport a black eye for a whole week.”

 

Taekwoon raises his eyebrows at Wonshik’s show of possessiveness. “He’s engaged to Hakyeon, you know. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

 

Wonshik gapes. “ _Your_ Hakyeon?”

 

“He’s not _my_ Hakyeon,” Taekwoon grimaces.

 

Wonshik grins teasingly. “Admit it, he’s your bosom buddy.”

 

He earns another smack to the chest for that, but Taekwoon keeps his hand there afterward and Wonshik takes it in his, gripping tight.

 

“Wonshik,” Taekwoon whispers. “I’m sort of scared.”

 

Wonshik places his cheek on top of his husband’s head, stroking the back of his hand. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m sort of scared, too. But we’ve got this.”

 

“What if,” Taekwoon hesitates, inhaling deeply. “What if something bad happens again?”

 

“Then we’ll still have each other.”

 

Taekwoon tips his head to watch Wonshik, eyes glinting with unshed tears. “Okay,” he says, small but resolute. “Okay.”

 

Wonshik kisses his forehead, cards his fingers through jet black hair, and they stay like that for a long time – irrefutably loved and content.

**Author's Note:**

> » title taken from james morrison’s ‘pieces don’t fit anymore’
> 
>  
> 
> » happy belated birthday, kim ravi! ;)


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